A Maxley Story

Chapter 10

Bradley lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling as the events of the previous night replayed in his mind, over and over. The kiss—the one he'd wanted for so long without even realizing it—and then, the way he'd panicked, pulled away, and hidden like a coward in the bathroom.

Idiot.

It wasn't like he didn't want Max, hadn't needed him last night. But somehow, opening up to him to that level was too much, like a line he wasn't ready to cross. He rubbed his hands over his face, pressing his palms to his eyes as if that would erase the memory of the kiss. Instead, it only brought it into sharper focus, and all he felt was regret.

"Such a coward," he muttered, a familiar frustration tightening his chest.

The silence in his hotel room only deepened his empty feeling, so he grabbed his phone. It was better than sitting alone with his thoughts. Several missed texts from his mother appeared on his lock screen, each one slightly more worried than the last. He could practically feel her concern through the words. He quickly tapped out a reply.

Bradley: "I'm fine"
Bradley: "Sorry for not responding. I got a summer job in Lakewood"
Bradley: "I figured I'd move back into the frat house"
Bradley: "Don't worry about me. I promise I'm fine."

He sent each message before he could change his mind. The lie settled uncomfortably in his stomach, but he brushed it off. He didn't want her to worry, and in a way, he was staying busy—just not in the way she might think.

Then, his gaze dropped to a voicemail notification from his father. Bradley sighed and hit play, bracing himself.

The recording started as he expected: his father, calm and curt, laying out all the reasons why Bradley's absence from work was unacceptable. Apparently, his dad had told the office that a "close friend" of Bradley's had been in a car accident, a story he'd fabricated to keep up appearances. Bradley clenched his jaw. The lie didn't surprise him, but hearing such an absurd lie reminded him what kind of person his father was.

Of course he'd say that. Anything to save face.

As his father's voice droned on, Bradley only half listened. His dad made it clear that his "stunt" needed to end, and that he was expected back at work on Monday. Bradley could practically feel the weight of his father's disappointment through the phone, the subtext loud and clear: You're a liability. And it's time to start acting like an Uppercrust.

When the message ended, Bradley closed his eyes and let out a slow, frustrated exhale. He could already picture the tension that would fill the office if he went back. It would be the same old story: walking on eggshells, covering up mistakes, always looking over his shoulder. Bradley shook his head, deciding not to respond. The longer he stayed away, the clearer it became that home wasn't where he belonged.

Needing a distraction, Bradley pulled up Instagram and began scrolling through his feed, his mind still reeling from the voicemail. He stopped when he saw the latest post from the Gamma house's official account. It was an announcement for their annual Fourth of July party, splashed with red, white, and blue emojis.

A familiar tightness pulled at his chest.

Max had invited him to the party, but that was before last night. If Bradley hadn't panicked, he might have been at the Gamma house at that moment, helping with decorations or hanging out with the guys, trying to get back into their good graces. But now, even though he was back in Lakewood, the thought of stepping into the house as an outsider felt...wrong.

If I hadn't screwed things up, maybe...

Bradley shut off his phone, unable to look at the post any longer. He'd always counted on the Fourth of July party to give him a reprieve from the pressure at home—a weekend of reckless fun with people who knew him—or at least knew him better than his parents. But now, here he was, back in Lakewood, more alone than ever.